


Fantasia

by sky_kaijou



Series: Fantasia [1]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! - All Media Types
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, No Smut, Rated M for language, Wholesome, happy endings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:26:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28146813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sky_kaijou/pseuds/sky_kaijou
Summary: How are you meant to create music with your worst enemy? Katsuya's about to find out as their music class surprises them with a duet composition for their final year at high school.Your 2020-friendly dose of fluff.
Relationships: Jounouchi Katsuya | Joey Wheeler/Kaiba Seto
Series: Fantasia [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2061960
Comments: 13
Kudos: 26





	Fantasia

_Fantasia: A piece not adhering to any strict musical form._   
  


☆ ♭♫ ♮♫ ♯♫ ☆

Kaiba’s spindly fingers suited him as they glided over the ivory keys of the music room baby grand. Beginning with feather-soft staccato, he bit the corner of his lip and closed his eyes as he dramatically built into a rolling thunder of chords and runs that shouldn’t have sounded as harmonious as they did. But they swept him into an audiological drama, gripping every intentional clash.

In every other room of this goddamn school, watching Kaiba would have been infuriating, but in music class, Jounouchi could even admit aloud that Kaiba had talent. Of course, he had talent in almost everything he did, but for some reason, music for him wasn’t overshadowed by profound ego. You could train for years to be good at music, but it really took creative talent to be excellent. It was like, for just fifty minutes at a time, Kaiba was just a normal, breathing teenager fascinated by sound waves and how they interacted.

Jounouchi watched the way he paused and took in a breath before returning to the softness of the beginning. As if the storm was passing, leaving just a soft breeze kissing their cheeks in the wake of a late spring sun shower.

“Most excellent, Kaiba-Kun!” their eccentric music teacher cooed, pushing her glasses back to the bridge of her nose. “I’m glad to see you’ve heeded my feedback of just letting yourself feel the music. Did you all feel that too, class? What a little humility can do to your creativity?”

Kaiba merely nodded in response and returned to his seat around the perimeter of the room. The next musician, Emi Tokugawa, got up to perform her weekly presentation on a worn, but well-cared-for violin. Jounouchi smiled at her as she tested her strings, tightening one before resting it on her chin and closing her eyes. Muscle memory guided her effortlessly through a more upbeat melody. It had blown Jounouchi away to realise how many pop songs had violins in them. He’d always thought they were no good for anything outside of orchestras and classical music. Emi had made it her mission to concentrate on unconventional violin-centric songs, and the two had bonded skin-deep over their disdain for musical expectations, and rules in general if they were being candid, but unlike Jounouchi, Emi still had a reasonable attendance record.

Jounouchi was happy that he’d made friends outside of the usual gang. He spent most periods with at least one or two of them, but nobody else had taken music as an elective past first year of senior high, choosing to study more sciences or history in preparation for university. But, over the years, Jou had realised that music was a catharsis that he simply couldn’t live without, and class was a fine excuse to keep a guitar in the house in tune, and practise until his father got home in the early hours of the weekend, until the neighbours would bang on his door to let him know they were home and to _shut_ _up_.

Imagine Jou’s disdain when Kaiba had been the only other person to stay on. Jou and him had bickered like anything in every other class, so he’d been winded when Kaiba had done nothing but be as pleasant as he could be while taking music classes seriously. He’d started on piano miles ahead of the other students in technicality, then spent a year on viola, before returning to piano for his final year.

“I couldn’t be more pleased with everybody’s progress in their chosen instruments,” the music teacher commended at the end of class. Her name was Konomi-Sensei, that was her first name but for her love of music, she’d legally changed the kanji of her name from “season” and “beauty” to just the first kanji for music with the same reading. She’d been born in a theatre in Kyoto. “I swear I was born in an orchestra pit!” she’d introduced herself. “Truthfully, I was born in the dressing room. My mother went into early labour on the night of my father’s performance and she couldn’t get to the hospital in time!”

Her vivaciousness was possibly half of the reason Jou had stayed enrolled for this long. Her projects were always interesting. Her encouragement of weekly performances meant even the shyest of students graduated with confidence in their musical ability. “The world needs more arts! How boring she would be if she were monotone!”

☆ ♭♫ ♮♫ ♯♫ ☆

He should have seen it coming. He’d heard about the dreaded “final year project” but had paid no real attention. Other students that had complained about her classes weren’t as involved or in love with music, so it couldn’t be that bad, surely. Plus you only ever hear the negative reviews. Konomi-Sensei seemed to change it every year though, so it wasn’t like he could predict exactly what was coming. Sometimes in pairs, sometimes solos, sometimes preassigned instruments students had never played or styles outside of their range. Either way, it pushed boundaries, and Jounouchi had pushed it out of his mind for now.

“A simple theory test won’t do,” she mused in front of the class. “Part of high school is to prepare you for the real world. So, much to your excitement, or dismay, I’m going to have you do a composition.”

The class looked around at each other, the atmosphere was calm. It wasn’t like they didn’t have musical sensibility and they’d spent ample time on theory.

“I have picked a partner for you to work with that has a completely different musical style to you,” she continued. “You are to compose a duet however you see fit. It can be any length between three to eight minutes. You both must use your instruments, plus you must document your creative process in a way you see fit. Whatever else you decide to do is up to you. You have from now, until the last week in February to compose it, with the final copy being presented to your class in March however you see fit. You will have a written test on theory to appease the high school board, but it’s all theory you know by now, so I shouldn’t expect you need to study for that.”

The class wasn’t so calm anymore, with Jou fidgeting in his seat, and Emi rolling her eyes at him, causing him to push a forced smile her way.

As she went around the circle, she pressed a name into the palms of each student. A few sighed in relief, one went bright red. As the name got pressed into his own palm, he felt a sense of dread wash over him.

He didn’t even need to read the name. He didn’t want to open it just in case it was cursed. It felt cursed. Like those times with the Pharaoh where some spooky shit was about to happen. That feeling of cold creeping from his hands, up his arms, making his hairs stand on end.

And as Kaiba looked at his name before locking eyes with Jou, he felt a tightness in his chest.

☆ ♭♫ ♮♫ ♯♫ ☆

Jou almost hoped that, despite his admitted admiration for Kaiba’s musical ability, if he didn’t say it out loud then he wouldn’t see it into reality, and this would all be some sort of practical joke. Stuck for thirteen weeks of project with somebody who otherwise spent every fathomable moment crawling under his skin. And before they could acknowledge each other, Jou was out the door and catching up with Yuugi and Honda on their way to the Kame Game Shop. Tuesday afternoons meant new shipments of cards, and Jou had picked up some spare money on the side in exchange for helping Grandpa organise his stock and change his marketing over.

“What’s got a bee in your bonnet?” Honda asked, tapping Jou on the shoulder as he attacked a box with a craft knife. Jou had been unusually quiet, pulling faces at the smallest inconveniences; a polar opposite to his usual bubbliness.

“We got our final projects for Music,” Jou admitted.

“And? You like music class.”

“We hav’ to compose a duet,” Jou typed a barcode into a receiving screen on the store computer, printing a list and sellotaping it to the edge of the counter. “It sounds alright. Like, no real rules, except we have’ta showcase each other’s talent.” Jou typed a barcode into a receiving screen on the store computer, printing a list and sellotaping it to the edge of the counter.

“Surely that’s not too bad!” Honda exclaimed. “A duet, right? You get on with everyone in your class except…” Honda noticed the crinkle in Jou’s nose. “Oh. Ohhhh. Shit man. Really? _Really_ , really?”

“Yupppppp.” Jou shrugged as he pulled the piece of paper out of his pocket and placed it on the countertop. His teacher’s artsy Kanji looking mockingly at him.

“How are you going to manage _that_?”

Jou shrugged, before grabbing the craft knife and cleanly opening a brand-new shipment of cards from Industrial Illusions. “I have no idea.” He pulled the sealed booster boxes out, ticking them off the list, and opening one to put on the counter. “Maybe this will be the murder weapon. I’ll do it in the kitchen, like a game of Cluedo, and give everyone an alias. Yours will be Barney, like the dinosaur”

“Well, if you ever need an alibi or a place to bury the body, I’m your guy!” Honda laughed as he grabbed the price gun and labelled the top of the box, and Jou poked his tongue out.

☆ ♭♫ ♮♫ ♯♫ ☆

“Jounouchi.” Kaiba growled as Jou took his seat in Japanese Language class. The sat beside each other, a mere sixty centimetres between their pair of desks, which Katsuya always pushed as far apart as the teachers would allow before commenting on him to straighten form. 

“What do you want?” Jou rolled his eyes, grabbing his tattered textbook from his satchel, hanging it on the side of his desk and clicking a pencil.

“I believe Konomi-Sensei has unkindly appointed us as project partners as some form of personal amusement. I assure you I am just as displeased to have to consider your insignificant input in my final project. So, before you waste our time by avoiding me, I would like to finish this project as soon as possible so I can concentrate on running my company.”

“Sure,” Jou shrugged off the insults. “Can’t do Tuesdays or Saturday mornings. Do wit’ that as you wish.” As much as he wanted to make it as inconvenient for Kaiba as he could, Jou also just wanted to be done with the project now that the reality had settled in. There would be no negotiating with Konomi. He could just imagine her smirk if he even tried. Probably some lecture about teamwork and collaborating with people you don’t see eye to eye with.

And there’d be even less negotiating with Seto motherfucking Kaiba.

Kaiba merely pulled out a notebook and scribbled a note in the margin. “This Saturday, six o’clock.” It was more a statement than a question and Jou just shrugged in acknowledgement as he tugged at the perforated pages in the homework section of his book and passed them forward. Jou noticed under Kaiba’s Japanese book was a thin refill of lined manuscript with small notes along the side in pencil. Jou just rolled his eyes, Kaiba would want to have his way with this too, and had evidently been doing as he wished pre-collaborative brainstorm. Typical.

☆ ♭♫ ♮♫ ♯♫ ☆

Saturday had flown by with ease as Jou had helped at the shop before hanging out with his friends after lunch, grabbing a bite to eat and whittling away the afternoon at the local game arcade. Though every hour, he felt the butterfly in his stomach flitter a little more vivaciously, until it was in full flight as he stood outside the gates of the towering Kaiba Mansion with his guitar case slung over his right shoulder at five-to-six. Though pissing off Kaiba was one of his guiltiest of pleasures, doing it on his doorstep and at his complete mercy wasn’t a smart investment, so he’d decided to be on time. And it wasn’t like he hadn’t been to his house before, though Mokuba’s parties tended to be confined to the huge open-plan lounge and kitchen. He really didn’t know what to expect.

Before pressing on the call button on the gates, they opened on their own and Jou blinked twice, before taking a stride over the boundary. He swore the temperature instantly dropped ten degrees. The front doors opened on their own, but Kaiba was leaning on the doorframe when Jou looked up, looking disinterested.

“Good evening to you too,” Jou rolled his eyes.

“I wouldn’t call it good.”

Kaiba turned his back to Jou without a word and headed up the flight of stairs that was in the centre of the entranceway. Jou slipped his shoes off and chucked them haphazardly aside before chasing him up the stairs.

Jou had only once been up to the second floor, where Mokuba’s room was, but he’d never been on the third. It was bright and spacious, the opposite of what Jou had expected. Walking down the marbled-tiled hallway, he took note of where the bathroom – or where the _bathrooms_ were.

If Jou wasn’t already impressed, his jaw dropped as he followed Kaiba into one of the rooms right at the end of the hall. Wooden floors with two-storey windows overlooking an immaculate courtyard.

“Wow, you have a pool,” Jou said dumbly. Of course he did, what rich person didn’t? But it just slipped out.

Kaiba sighed. “Is that really the thing you’re the most impressed about?”

Jou felt his cheeks redden. “No, shut up, _asshole_.”

Centred in the beautiful room under a chandelier was a beautiful Grand Piano. To its right, a Cello, which Jou had recognised from their final recital due to its’ beautiful engraving wrapping around the neck. The image of Kaiba cradling it softly flashed into his head and he felt a little nauseous. Kaiba was merely a robot that was programmed to elicit human-esque tendencies one percent of the time.

Kaiba cleared his throat and walked over to one of the internal walls, folding the doors upon themselves to reveal an incredible array of other instruments and rows upon rows of categorised sheet music books and folders. Jou wanted to throw up at the peacockiness, until he saw the most beautiful guitar he’d ever lay his eyes on.

“Whoa dude, is that a…?” his voice quivered at the Gibson Les Paul made famous by Jimmy Page.

“It’s an exact replica.” Kaiba picked it up in both hands. “I own the original, but I wouldn’t want to use it, so I’m okay with this being on display in its’ place.”

“You paid someone to reproduce it?”

“Right down to the very last scratch in the lacquer.” Kaiba handed the guitar to Jou, who gripped it tightly in his hands and strummed a few chords before handing it back.

“Okay, this is romantic and all, but I’m here ta make some music so let’s get crackin’.”

Kaiba rolled his eyes before rolling out an electronic whiteboard into the centre of the room, dashing off for a moment before coming back with a computer. Drumming his fingers on the keyboard until the computer booted and connected.

“Of course you’d do this the hi-tech way,” Jou grumbled as Kaiba pulled up a transcription program on the Smartboard.

Kaiba furrowed his brows. “Is there anything wrong with efficiency, bonkotsu?”

Jou twitched and clenched his fists in response. “Rule number one. If I’m not going to strangle you, you’re not going to call me bonkotsu.”

“Stupid rule, _bonkotsu_. This is my house. I’ll say what I want.” Kaiba pulled out lined refill with notes scribbled in every direction. “So, I believe we have to document our ‘creative process’ to keep the crazy old bat happy.”

Jou blew his fringe out of his house. “Yeah, I guess so.” He mused for a minute. “What about a vlog? I’m sure ya got like, a hundred video cameras around. It’ll take way less time t’ compile some footage than t’ type somethin’ up and keep a diary.”

“Wow. An idea that doesn’t suck. Maybe this isn’t going to be as painful as I thought.” Again, Kaiba disappeared, leaving Jou alone in the room to start poking through the array of sheet music, categorised by name and type.

The sheer variety, from rock to classical and everything inbetween, kept Jou mesmerised for long enough that he didn’t notice Kaiba come back into the room and just watch him from a distance. It was only when he’d cleared his throat that Jou slid a compilation book back into the shelf and turn around to see himself being filmed.

“You asshole!” Jou pulled the finger.

“What a creative way to start the vlog.” Seto’s deadpan voice grumbled.

Setting the camera on top of the piano, they started brainstorming on the whiteboard, Katsuya ducking away to finding sheet music to take inspiration from in Kaiba’s incredible collection. Settling on a theme (“after the rainstorm”), time signature, Katsuya made a mood-board (“why the fuck do we need a moodboard?!”) after some squabbling, which was all caught on film.

Katsuya picked a guitar, and haphazardly, they threw together a few basic ideas alongside Seto’s piano. It sounded good. Seto musically knew what he was doing, and Katsuya found it easy to follow along after watching Seto in action for the last three years in class.

Despite being in each other’s company unhappily, time ran away from them. Looking at his wrist, Katsuya realised it was quarter-past-ten as he felt his knee cramp from resting the guitar raised on his leg.

“Jesus Christ,” Katsuya muttered to himself. “Four hours together and I haven’t stabbed ya yet.”

“And I’d appreciate you getting the fuck out of my house about now,” Seto deadpanned. Obviously their session was past its use-by. Katsuya threw a peace sign over his shoulder as he slung his shoulder bag on and barrelled down the stairs with no formal goodbye.

☆ ♭♫ ♮♫ ♯♫ ☆

Katsuya found himself on Seto Kaiba’s doorstep again at five-fifty-seven on the following Wednesday evening. Coming straight from school (well, straight from Burger World and a quick ten minute game at the arcade against Mokuba who made some snide comments about knowing how to tracelessly bury a man in Pegasus’ backyard should one of them get murdered by the other – only the second time murder had been brought up but certainly not the last) he was dragged up the stairs by a disgruntled looking Kaiba, into a different room of the house.

“Wow, no need to show off,” Katsuya rolled his eyes as he noticed the fanciest computer he’d ever seen. Complete with showy RGB lighting and mechanical keyboards that made satisfying _click-clacks_ as Kaiba pressed buttons.

“You’re going to edit the vlog footage in here. I simply don’t have the time right now.”

“And why not, rich boy? You’re better at this computer shit than me.”

“Because it’s fucking _Christmas_ and my job revolves around making miracles happen in thousands of stores around the _world_.”

Jou poked his tongue out behind Kaiba where he couldn’t see it. “Humble brag much?”

Kaiba took a deep breath as if to centre himself, before pulling the chair out. “I’ll show you the basics, like trimming footage, and then later I’ll teach you how to stitch it together. Try to remember the kinds of things you enjoy watching since this was your idea after all. I’ll take care of any written reports and obviously, producing the final products to hand in.”

Now, Katsuya wasn’t technologically dumb, it was just that there wasn’t even a computer in his house and the laggy school computers weren’t good for anything but research – and even then Wikipedia of all sites was blocked, so he found it a struggle with the countless tabs and toolbars in the editing software. Plus, four hours of footage was a lot to play back and trim.

“If it’s just filler, cut it, that’s here, or fast-forward it. You can play it back up to 64-speed which means you can do a whole hour in just a minute. That button is here. It’s good to clip the content you think you want to use, and name it so you know which clip it is, and where it should go.” Kaiba pointed a few more tabs out. “I’ve taken a backup copy of all the footage so even if you completely fuck this up, we can get it all back.”

“Thanks for the pep-talk.”

Kaiba rolled his eyes. “I have business to attend to, but I will check up on you when my meeting is done and make sure you haven’t destroyed my house.”

“Dude, it’s like, six-thirty. You have a fucking meeting?”

“It’s a Wednesday. I have meetings usually until about eleven leading up to Christmas. Timezones. No countries wait up for Japan.”

“Wow. Sucks for you.”

“Indeed.” Seto got up out of his chair and left Katsuya in front of the much too fancy computer.

In what felt like five hours but was just fifteen frustrating minutes, Isono brought Katsuya something small to eat. Though Katsuya had eaten a burger earlier, his stomach rumbled like it hadn’t eaten all day. It was a small quiche, with a small fork and a tomato chutney on the side. “Of course the rich fuck would be fancy,” Katsuya rolled his eyes, but still enjoyed the quiche all the same. He wondered, as he stared blankly at footage he’d replayed countless times of their spat over the mood board, if rich people always ate like this.

Katsuya’s idea of “fancy” was getting a large pork bun instead of a regular at the convenience store.

Katsuya cracked on, slowly learning the commands without having to look them up every five seconds.

Dishevelled, Seto rolled in around nine-thirty. He looked a lot more visibly worse-for-wear than earlier, with purpling under his dull blue eyes from staring at his computer screen.

“Wow, you weren’t fucking kidding. Did you go through a war?”

“Every day is a war when you’re dealing with arrogant fuckers who want to squeeze you for every last yen.”

“Aren’t you an arrogant fucker who tries to squeeze everyone for every last yen?”

Seto frowned, creasing between his eyebrows. “Not that I expect you to understand, but that money is in much better hands with me.”

“Humour me, moneybags.”

Seto pulled up a chair beside Katsuya and mused over what he’d assembled so far. “I pay my staff a living wage. I pay my corporate tax. I invest in research for technology for medical advancement, and I help children in need. I’m not a complete asshole.” Seto grabbed the mouse and made a few clicks around the screen, cleanly trimming a few more clips. “Only an asshole when _you_ deserve it.”

“You wanna fucking try me?” Katsuya heated up.

“So easy to rile up,” Seto said oddly calmly. They watched over the chaotic footage, calm one minute and snappy the next, before they nodded to each other and Seto exported the file, saving it in multiple places. “Okay. You’ve done your job. Get out of my house.”

Katsuya shrugged, grabbing his backpack off the floor. “Don’t need to tell me twice, asshole.” Slinging it over his shoulders with fraying threads barely holding on, he threw back a peace sign and let himself out.

☆ ♭♫ ♮♫ ♯♫ ☆

“And on the first day of dickmas, my true thot sent to me, a nude selfie by the Christmas tree!” Jou and Honda joyously sang beside their desks in homeroom, and Kaiba let out an audible groan.

“Aye, what’s your problem Rich Boy? Not getting any action this Christmas?”

“One. Your song is unoriginal and crude. Two. Plenty of action,” Kaiba shot back, before shooting back his double-shot coffee.

“Yeah, he’s getting fucked by investors.” Jou settled into his desk, feeling Kaiba’s leering digging into his temple. He acknowledged the ticking time bomb until Kaiba would explode – it seemed like one of those days – but still Jou felt like the challenge. “On the second day of dickmas, my true thot sent to me, two purple dildos!”

And in unison Honda joined back in “and a nude selfie by the Christmas Tree!”

And then Yuugi joined in, as innocent as he looked. “On the third day of Christmas, my true thot sent to me…three bottles of lube!” Jou and Honda joined back in “two purple dildos! And a nude selfie by the Christmas Tree.”

Kaiba simply gathered his textbooks and left the class again, vein popping out of his forehead. Jou snickered to himself but braced himself to be decked in the halls between second and third period.

And decked he did, getting his collar grabbed by Seto and shoved into a locker with a sneer across his face. “Can I just have one fucking day where you aren’t causing me a headache?” His eyes were narrowed and his snarl was vicious.

Even so, Jou bit his tongue and decided to fight back. “You know, for someone who says they’re getting plenty of action you sure have some _feelings_ pent up.” Jou leant into Kaiba’s ear, breath hot on his cheek. “Unless this is the action you meant? All you had to do was ask.”

Kaiba dropped him to the ground violently, back hitting the wall. “I’d tell you to get fucked Jounouchi, but you’d probably enjoy it.” He stormed off, and Jounouchi wondered why that button in particular threw Kaiba off the cliff edge.

☆ ♭♫ ♮♫ ♯♫ ☆

“Playground” spats were so commonplace for them. If it had been an entire week without as much as a snide comment that escalated into a screaming match, or a body pinned against a wall with a knee between someone’s thighs, then something was _really_ wrong. The last time they’d had a hiatus, summer vacation excluded, was because Jou was dealing with family trouble at home and simply didn’t have the energy to bite back. Those nights, Jou was getting even less sleep than Kaiba, and was much less accustomed to it too. Pulling graveyard shifts at the convenience store, trying to pay his father’s bills to keep the electricity on, and waking up after finally falling asleep to his father throwing up in the sink from cheap booze at the izakaya that finally kicked him out at four.

This was the first time Kaiba had a problem with their unvoiced arrangement, still visibly mad at Jounouchi when he rocked up at six-oh-three on Saturday night.

“Good evening sunshine,” Jou sing-songed.

“Shut the fuck up. I want you to get in, play whatever fucking garbage you need to play, and then get the fuck out of my space.”

“Wow, Kaib’s on his rags huh?”

“If you don’t shut the fuck up…” Kaiba snarled, leaning on the doorframe, before shifting his demeanour as he heard Mokuba come down the staircase.

“Oh hey kid!” Jou shouted over Kaiba’s shoulder.

“Evening!” Jou kicked off his ratty shoes and followed Kaiba up the staircase, pausing only to have Mokuba lean into his ear.

“Hey. I’d heed to his advice. He’s been having a shitty week.”

Jou nodded. Not that he needed any more warning to not start a fight in Kaiba’s own mansion. As much as the halls of the school were public, and free real estate, being in someone’s house was a little too personal.

After all, the way that his own father used to scream at him in his own walls before he was big enough to bite back, in the one place that was meant to feel safe…

So Jou followed him silently, and they hit record on the camera, and with paper sprawled on the floor and scribbled notes on the electric whiteboard, they worked in complete silence.

Finally, Jou felt a wave of regret spill over him. “I’m sorr…”

“I don’t want to hear your fake apologies.” Seto stood up and left the room abruptly, leaving Katsuya bewildered. He didn’t want to assume he was the catalyst for Kaiba’s outburst, but if Seto was so sensitive about the implications that he…

No, that couldn’t be it. Katsuya shook his head at that thought.

Grabbing the guitar, he started strumming some written melodies, feeling a little melancholy, so after a while he stopped and faced the filming camera. “Look, I don’t know what’s up, but for the sake of this, Kaiba and I had a pretty weird fight on Thursday and, uh, yeah. Guess that’s our first big obstacle. Peace.” He turned off the camera and took the camera to the computer room, running into Kaiba in the hall along the way.

“What are you doing?”

“I dunno man. I thought I’d just start workin’ on this now since we ain’t getting’ anywhere and like, this is a team project.”

“Then start acting like an adult.”

“YOU were the one who fucking walked out on me you dipshit.”

“Because the sight of you makes me sick to my stomach.” Seto snatched the camera.

“You know what? Fuck you and fuck this project. Here’s permission to do everythin’ yourself you fucking control freak. Leave me out of your little fuckin’ tantrum. Have a good week jackass.” Katsuya stormed out, hurriedly pulling his shoes on and getting out as quickly as possible.

☆ ♭♫ ♮♫ ♯♫ ☆

“So, how’s the project going?” Emi asked, popping open her bento box. Leaning against the wall of the music room, Katsuya pulled a sandwich wrapped in a used bread bag out of his backpack.

“Kaiba is a talented, prepubescent little bitch!” Katsuya huffed, smashing the sandwich into his mouth like this was all its fault. “He’s so hard to work with. I can NOT be bothered. Why couldn’t I be paired with someone easy to work with like you. _We_ would have made _music_.”

“Maybe,” Emi mused while picking at her bento with her cute chopsticks with kittens on the top, “Konomi-Sensei is trying to teach y’all that you have to work together sometimes. Life isn’t just gonna be roses and getting along with your co-workers. You can’t pretend that you’re not the instigator sometimes either.” Jou scowled. “No, don’t give me that look Jounouchi Katsuya. You are a brat sometimes too.”

Rolling his eyes and polishing off his sandwich, he muttered something under his breath before turning the conversation back on her. “How is your project going?”

“Fine.” She threw Katsuya a spare apple from her bag. “We have a solid concept. Two violins together make a pretty cool duet, and I really love _2cellos_ , but we want to experiment with more alternative music too.”

“You know, Emi-chan, you’re going to make it big.”

“And so are you. I mean, you’ve already had a taste of the duelling limelight. People are interested in what you have to show for yourself.”

Katsuya played with a loose thread between his fingers. “I don’t know. I’ve got to survive this project first.”

“My tip,” Emi said, “which you can take or leave, is to remember he’s probably going through something too. We’re all teenagers. He might have money but he’s probably lonely. You might not have money but you have the biggest social circle I know.

Plus, knowing you, you’ve probably said something that’s hit a little too close to home.”

☆ ♭♫ ♮♫ ♯♫ ☆

The third week of project, they didn’t speak to each other. It was a conscious decision on Jou’s part, and an unconscious one on Kaiba’s, finalising the last Christmas Details with Christmas Day less than a week away. Kaiba had hardly even been at school anyway for Jou to broach the conversation.

That didn’t stop Jou from taking matters into his own hands, writing music, letting his feelings out in the run-down walls of the music room at school when nobody else lingered after the final bell. Some of it sounded angry. Some felt melancholic. Katsuya captured snippets of it on his phone. If time was going to fall away he didn’t want his efforts to go to waste.

The first contact with Kaiba since their showdown in the mansion came through Mokuba. “You know, if you need me to give anything to him about your project or whatever I don’t mind being a run-between for now. But you guys need to have a chat. Whatever happened has been fucking with him.”

“Mokuba!” Jou scolded the language out of reflex, trying to hide his smirk.

“It’s not just Christmas you know. He won’t tell me what you said but he said you were a complete fucking asshole, and that’s a step above a regular moron or the ‘third-rate-duellist’ thing.”

Jou replayed the way Kaiba’s face flushed before turning into rage as he was pinned against the dirty cream wall in the hallway, knuckles clenched white. “Wow, he’s _that_ mad at me?”

Mokuba just nodded, wild hair bouncing like a commercial. “Just, come over. Same time on Saturday, like last week never happened and pick up again. It’d be a really nice peace offering and I know he’s not busy then. A hint, Seto doesn’t have much of a sweet tooth but he is addicted to that strawberry shortcake from the bakery near the store you used to work at. Uh? What’s the name. Umai. Yeah. Umai. They always serve as a good apology when I make him mad.”

“Huh.” Mokuba waved goodbye cheerfully.

Which is how, Katsuya found himself holding a plain white box, standing at Seto’s doorway at five-to-six, dressed a little nicer than usual, with a small smile on his face as Seto opened the door without an expression. “Hey. I heard you like cake.”

“What’s this for?” Kaiba blinked twice, wary that Jou was about to hand him a bomb, or even worse, a _glitter_ bomb.

“A little imp gave me a hint. Wanna make me a tea and talk about it?”

“Not particularly.” Though Kaiba lead Jou to the first-floor kitchen, Jou following behind closely after kicking off his shoes and putting on slippers. Happy to be out of the winter chill and in front of a bitter green tea. Kaiba plated the shortcake, getting two perfectly sliced pieces out of the box and storing the rest away. Tiny dessert forks that looked like they were for dolls caused Jou to squint and Kaiba to facepalm.

“Y’know,” Jou said between sipping at the piping hot tea. “If I took it too far the other day just say so. I don’t mean to hurt you, ever. Just rile ya up. Just get under your skin. But like, not in a way that really hurts you. But if there’s shit you don’t wanna talk about or make jokes about I’ll respect ya boundaries and whatever.”

Kaiba swallowed the piece of cake silently, placing his fork down quietly before looking Jou square in the face and nodding once. “Perhaps I also overreacted.”

“Nah, you’re fightin’ your own demons or whatever too. I meant it when I said I’m sorry but like, you don’t have to forgive me. I get it.”

“I,” Kaiba cleared his throat, “accept your apology.”

Jou smiled as he sipped at the tea, which was absolving his chill. Once they were finished, they walked up the stairs together and settled into the music room.

A lot more productive than last week, they began serious dialogue about what their composition would look like, and Seto generated a few versions of sheet music on the electric whiteboard, printing them and scribbling all over them as they sat beside the piano and played with a few melodies.

The hours melted together and before they knew it, it was past eleven, and they were lying on the floor from exhaustion with piles of music scattered around them, and something that resembled a finished piece.

“What are you doing for Christmas?” Jou finally asked, tilting his head to look at Kaiba, exhaustion etched again into his face, juxtaposed against his smile. _Smile_?

“Not answering the phone.”

“That much of a treat huh?”

Seto cracked his knuckles before staring back up at the ceiling. “God, I hate Christmas when I’m having to answer to so many fucking idiots. I miss the days, though few and far between, where Christmas didn’t really exist, and New Year’s Day was spent with Mokuba, myself, and family who actually wanted us.”

Katsuya looked at the ceiling too, feeling his world shift underneath him as Seto opened up. It was more than just unexpected, but it was welcomed.

“Shit’s rough huh? I agree with you. Before our parents got the big-ole-Divorced, New Year’s was my favourite holiday, but now we’re split up and Shi-chan lives with my hag of a mother.”

Seto swallowed. “Anyway. No point stressing about it. I’ll still have the morning with Mokuba, and this year I might actually do something for New Years with him too.”

“Y’know,” Katsuya muttered, “I can make _toshikoshi_ _soba_. What say the four of us have a traditional New Year, go to the shrine at midnight, and pass out under the kotatsu afterwards?”

Seto stayed quiet for a moment. “I appreciate that offer, but I think right now it might not be the best.”

“Ah, no worries. If you ever want to spend time a little less alone, ya know, I’m always here.” Propping himself up on his hands, Katsuya shook his hair out of his eyes. “I should probably head home. You know, as much as passing out on your floor sounds like a good idea, I’m sure you’d smack me silly in the morning.”

Seto just snorted.

“Goodnight.” Katsuya smiled. “Same time on Wednesday?”

“Same time on Wednesday.”

☆ ♭♫ ♮♫ ♯♫ ☆

Wednesday had proved really uneventful, with Kaiba out for an emergency meeting, but Katsuya’s second time editing the footage had gone much smoother, and he’d produced, by himself, most of a functional vlog, with them being productive. Laid beside the short vlog where they’d exploded, Katsuya sat in front of the camera and provided just a little context about how their fight had continued but they’d made peace.

Some of the moments, like the lying on the ground, Katsuya had purposefully cut, and he thought about maybe sometimes turning off the camera entirely. There was only so much they needed to capture; re-watching Seto’s body language as they talked about their families and holidays was a _lot_. Even though he was there in that conversation, seeing it from a different angle made him feel like he was seeing something too raw and exposed.

On Saturday, three days after Christmas which aligned with their End of Semester at school, like clockwork, Jou arrived at the mansion a little before six, backpack slung over one shoulder. Upon arriving, sheet music was thrust into Katsuya’s hands and he was dragged upstairs to record their first take of their duet. It seemed a little predictable, but it played nicely, and he found himself enjoying the harmony they’d managed to create.

Jou sat on the floor, playing back their first rendition back of their composition. In his gut, he’d known that finishing early was potentially a recipe for creative failure, but he was feeling anything but inspired listening to something that could have been an instrumental of almost any generic guitar-and-piano duet. Realistically, they’d been gambling with time only two weeks earlier with their fight, and getting finished early, or at least having a post-production piece this early, was at least insurance.

“Listen, Kaiba. I don’t wan ya to be mad or anythin’,” Jou broached, holding his breath and bracing for a terrible reaction, “but I kinda _hate_ this.”

“I can’t say it was exactly how I imagined either,” Kaiba replied, sighing. Jou looked at him softly seeing the way his shoulders tensed admitting their current defeat.

“Kaib, she expects us ta mash up our styles and do somethin’ out of our comfort zones. We have th’ chance to really blow her away.” Joey tapped his pen on a spare sheet of refill. “I’m just sayin’ that she told us we have to use your Piano and my Guitar, and nothin’ else was off limits.”

Kaiba sat cross-legged on the floor with his laptop, typing away.

“We could theoretically create more than just this duet. Add some synth. Come up wit’ some catchy lyrics.”

Kaiba nodded just once and continued to write some notes while absently chewing on a pen. Katsuya could tell he was mulling it over though.

“I’m sorry. I know you’re busy an’ I know we’ve already wasted a month arguin’, but this could be huge, man. You’re so technical, and I’m creative as shit. Why don’t we aim for better?”

“Why don’t we?” Kaiba muttered under his breath. “Well, is there a genre you’re thinking?”

“I’m really digging electrochill, vapourwave. Strong electropop piano, chill guitar, floaty and light. The opposite of what they’re expecting from us. Less emphasis on length of lyrics over a simple message. Here, gimme your laptop.” Kaiba passed over his computer gingerly and Jou searched up some inspiration. “This is what I’m feeling.”

Kaiba just sat there and listened to three songs before nodding his head along to the downtempo. “This all sounds fine.”

“Look, we can do lots of this on a fancy keyboard or soundboard. I can play enough drums to get by. I can jam both an acoustic and electric guitar. You have access to all this stuff and editing software. We’d be stupid to settle for the basics.”

“I agree with you.” Kaiba clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth. “But I hope you realise what you’ve just bitten off agreeing to start again with me.”

“You’ve got like, a hundred spare bedrooms and I have no responsibilities five nights a week. I can be here when you need me.”

And so, they went back to the drawing board, settling on a new theme – _wanderlust_ , and this time Kaiba didn’t make a snide remark about the mood-board.

☆ ♭♫ ♮♫ ♯♫ ☆

New Year’s came and went, and in the last weekend of their school holiday, Seto and Katsuya hauled every instrument out of Seto’s cupboards and experimented with different sounds. Seto had stripped back some audio from songs that both him and Katsuya agreed they liked on Saturday, and they had compiled what kinds of instruments they could use. The obvious answer was just to use synths and electric keyboards like Katsuya had mentioned the week before, but Katsuya had fixated on finding weird and unusual uses for instruments. Which is how he found himself with a clarinet between his lips.

“I’m going to have to sterilise that after.”

“I had to sterilise it first,” Katsuya pulled the finger before playing a sound that could shatter windows.

“Nope!” Seto held both his arms in a cross. “If you play that again I’m going to shove it down your throat.”

“I’ve got an incredible gag reflex,” Katsuya shot back, before blowing a note slightly less terrible. Seto covered his ears in mockery and Katsuya laughed, cleaning the mouthpiece, and hanging the clarinet back in the cabinet.

“Disgusting.”

“I can prove it if you want.”

“I do not want that but thank you kindly for the offer.”

Katsuya couldn’t stop laughing at Seto’s smooth delivery. “You know, Kaiba, you’re pretty funny when you remove that stick from your ass.”

“Life is a lot safer when I have my proverbial stick up my proverbial ass.”

Wondering if that was a flirt for a hot minute before shrugging it away, Katsuya settled back into experimenting with the array of wind instruments, jamming away haphazardly on an ocarina. “I feel like I’m in some kind of video game with this.”

“Yeah, a mid-tier boss maybe.” Seto was on his stomach flicking through the piles of sheet music he’d printed that they’d defiled, re-transcribing them and printing them clean again. Filing away each iteration into a pile of clear files so they could keep track of their progress. “But I think you might be onto something with that. Put it aside, we can sample a few notes later on and see how it records.”

Katsuya smiled at the clay instrument, placing it gently on the floor beside him. “You know, we can also use voice, yeah? I don’t wanna sing a big song but something light and fluffy might work.”

“Neither of us have “light and fluffy” voices and no amount of autotune will fix that, Jounouchi.”

“I’m sure we can borrow a female.”

Raising his eyebrow, “you mean like a library book?”

Katsuya laughed. “I’m sure it wouldn’t take much for Emi to say something poetic for us, even if she teases me relentlessly afterwards. I’d take that mocking for the greater good.”

“Shelf that idea for now but maybe, once we have a better idea what direction we’re going.”

☆ ♭♫ ♮♫ ♯♫ ☆

So they hadn’t started entirely from scratch and now there was a solid base to build from. There were rhythms in their first piece they could use that they liked. Seto thought an adapted version of Katsuya’s guitar solo, and his own piano chord arrangement were fitting of the work they’d put in thus far.

Seto was softening up to the way Katsuya gingerly held his guitar, propped up by crossed knees in casual blue denim jeans. The rough edges of Katsuya’s face relaxing into soft curves. Eyebrows furrowing as his fingers found the right chord, strumming a few times. It was evident Katsuya respected music and maybe Seto didn’t find him as unrelatable as he once did. Grades in class reflected his external knowledge too. Riding on an almost 100% score, save a few stupid mistakes by being too careless during school-mandated theory tests.

Seto agreed that paper tests weren’t a marker of skill when it came to the arts.

And if Seto closed his eyes and let his fingers do the talking, it was almost – almost like he was here with a kindred soul. Until he opened his mouth and fucked him off by saying something a little too cheeky. But their chemistry – if that’s what you wanted to call it – working relationship – had blossomed. Katsuya was nothing if not careful of Seto. Learning his moods and pulling back when their joking felt like it was going too far.

If Seto was less Seto-like he could almost apologise for the volatility in return. Subjecting people to moods dependent on workloads, stresses, and triggers.

But for now, no. Just close your eyes and play. Talk with just your melodies.

☆ ♭♫ ♮♫ ♯♫ ☆

Swept up in stripping back lyrics and settling in beside Kaiba for both a third and fourth night every week, Katsuya had conveniently forgotten about their University Entrance Exams driving towards them in full force until teachers started giving ridiculous amounts of homework and pulling students aside one-by-one to advise them on their current grades and study plans. Not that Katsuya was worried about science and math test scores but wanting to get into a creative Music Academy of sorts was important to him, and if it came down between a test of GPA between similarly artistically talented candidates, he would quickly sink to the bottom.

But Katsuya had been playing with a handicap for years so it wasn’t worth stressing that much over now.

Seto Kaiba was already granted scholarships to any University of his choice. Not that he couldn’t afford to pay. Katsuya was sure that Seto would walk into the final exam of any postgraduate computer science degree and pass with an A+ without effort.

Katsuya and Seto hadn’t flared up again. Rather, settling into a rhythm of working on the floor of the music room, reems of paper in neat stacks. Today was no different, with Katsuya picking up the vlog camera, that was filming attached to their tripod, and doing his daily ad-lib introduction.

“Welcome back to the KaiJou show!” Katsuya grinned.

“You’ve really given us a –“

“Slogan? Yes I have, rich boy!” Katsuya saw Seto roll his eyes through the viewfinder and rest his temple on the palm of his hand. “We are out here vibin’ today!”

“…Vibing is certainly not a term I would attach to _this_ ,” Seto narrowed his eyes, picking up stacks of sheet music and dropping them like rain.

“Anyway! Progress is being made, so let’s get into it!” Katsuya peace-signed the camera before putting it back on the tripod and sitting cross-legged across from Kaiba. “You know, I think something’s missing from this two-minute twelve mark, before the base drops. Maybe a pause, something like a tap dripping to the beat.”

“Hmm,” Seto started searching through audio files on a database.

“No, no, don’t use something already made. Go get me a glass of water.”

“Get yourself a glass of water.”

“Aight.” Jou excused himself to pad downstairs to the kitchen, Mokuba splayed across the countertop with social studies homework and a bowl of grapes he was mindlessly snacking on. “Hey, kid.”

“Is fifteen too old to call someone kid? Find out on this episode of Jounouchi and Kaiba act like emotionally stunted eggplants for a few months,” Mokuba narrated sarcastically.

“I think you’ll find the new term is the KaiJou show.”

“Cute.” Mokuba tapped his finger to his forehead. “You’ve got a ship name.”

“Sure, if that helps your K-Drama-riddled brain comprehend our working relationship.” Jou grabbed two glass out of the cupboard and opened the fridge, grabbing a pitcher of water and heading back out of the room.

“Wait, tomorrow is your birthday, right?” Mokuba mentioned. “The twenty-fifth?”

“Yeah, turning nineteen.”

“Jesus, you’re almost a whole year older than Seto”

“Nine months, thank you very much. Not much in the grand scheme of it all.” Jou cracked his neck. “Feeling more like ninety than nineteen.”

Mokuba just laughed before settling back into his mountain of homework. Katsuya thought to himself about his lack of plans, choosing to celebrate on Saturday lunchtime with all of his friends instead before Tea and Yugi had to pick up their shifts at work. Not like Katsuya’s father would care anyway. Katsuya counted the stairs up to the third floor – exactly fifty, feeling his calves burn by the end. No wonder Seto Kaiba was fit, if he had to scale these stairs just three times a day he’d be getting a solid workout. Katsuya didn’t know much of the layout of the mansion other than Mokuba’s room, the bathrooms, where Seto’s office was, but he assumed the untouched room the other side of the music room was Seto’s bedroom with the way it was shut tight. It would only make sense for it to be the master, sharing the beautiful view of the backyard and vistas.

Katsuya realised he was thinking too much about Seto’s bedroom and knocked it out of his thoughts.

“Took your time,” Seto commented, holding the computer in his hands. Katsuya rolled his eyes and put the water down carefully beside him, drinking a glass and offering one to Seto, which he gracefully accepted as he put his laptop down.

“One of my many useless talents is this.” After downing a glass of water, Katsuya made a face and started popping his tongue against the roof of his mouth, then his cheek.

“That’s disgusting.”

“We’re not quite there.” He drank another glass of water and held just a little bit of it in his mouth. As Seto took another sip of his water, Katsuya made the perfect water dropping into the ocean with his mouth, causing him to snort water out of his nose.

“And you have the audacity to call me disgusting.” Katsuya giggled as Seto slinked off for a moment to clean himself up.

“I,” Seto replied as he came back with tissues in hand, “didn’t call you disgusting. I _said_ what you were _doing_ is disgusting. There’s a pertinent difference.” But Seto had a sly smile, and didn’t take another sip of water until Katsuya was finished recording the sound, but having to stifle his laugh so the microphone didn’t pick up on it.

You know, it didn’t sound half bad, either, Seto admitted. But only to himself. Because Katsuya doing things with his mouth was _pretty_ _weird_.

☆ ♭♫ ♮♫ ♯♫ ☆

Imagine Mokuba’s surprise when Katsuya’s at his house the next night, on his birthday.

“Oh!” he exclaimed, looking up at the scruffy-haired blond with his backpack slung over one shoulder. “Happy birthday, Jou.”

“Cheers!” Jou pointed finger guns at him on his way trailing Seto up the two flights of stairs.

“It’s your birthday?” Seto asked, carefully.

“That it is, moneybags!” Seto caught Katsuya’s face in a grin. “Nineteen today. One more year til I can drink alcohol _legally_.”

“Are you insinuating that you drink it illegally?” Seto asked, quirking one eyebrow, pausing by the video camera.

“Depends whether or not you’re going to tell the authorities.”

“And why are you spending it here then?” Seto skated past the question.

Shrugging, Katsuya placed his bag against the wall by the music room door. “You know, I have weekend plans but pops doesn’t give a shit today, so.” Still, with a smile, Katsuya reached over to the video camera.

“Don’t,” Seto said quietly, and Katsuya sat on the floor without turning it on but tilting his head as if to ask ‘why.’ Disappearing for a minute before settling down on the floor beside him with a bottle of wine and two glasses.

“It’s a Thursday.”

“Yes, I know how calendars work.”

“You’re younger than I am.”

“And I’ve been emancipated since I was fifteen.” Seto tipped the bottle towards Katsuya, who held a glass up indicating approval all the same, popping the cork off and pouring it smoothly into Katsuya’s glass, then his own. Settling the bottle down he met Katsuya halfway for a _cheers_. Condensation pooled on the floor around the rim of the bottle.

“Thanks, Kaiba,” Jou sipped on the glass. “It’s been a hot minute since I’ve had a drink.”

“Maybe this will get the creative juices flowing?”

“How often do you drink?” Katsuya asked, pulling out the pile of composition notes he’d handwritten.

Thinking for a moment, Seto replied with “not that often. Special occasions. When it’s all too much. That kind of thing.”

“God, I’d’ve developed a substance problem by now if the prerequisite was just ‘when it’s all too much.’”

“Believe me,” Seto joked dryly, “I’ve considered it more than once.”

“Well,” Katsuya put his pen to paper and filled in some musical notes he’d drawn previously, “I’m glad you haven’t knocked yourself out yet. The world would be much too boring without you.”

“The world would be just the same.”

“Well, _my_ world would be much too boring without you.” Katsuya hummed the notes in front of him, extending the pause and changing a quaver into a semiquaver. “Imagine,” he sung to the notes, “how boring my life would beeeee.”

“Imagine, how quiet my life would beee,” Seto mocked, finishing his glass a little quicker than he thought he should, taking pause to let Jounouchi catch up.

Katsuya doodled in the margin of the manuscript a tiny little Red-Eyes shooting a flame. “Is quiet the life you’re looking for? I mean, probably, right? Your work is chaotic. Your little brother is chaotic. School is chaotic. Do you want less chaos?”

Thinking on it for a couple of minutes while they worked on collating their notes and drafts and redrafts of sheet music, Seto finally answered the hanging question. “I enjoy the different levels of chaos.”

“Ne,” Katsuya grinned, as Seto poured them both a second glass. “At least our chaos is fun.”

“Usually.”

Plugging in headphones to listen to their thus far recorded composition again, running his finger along the paper, Seto let himself get lost in what they’d created the second time around. Far from perfect, but certainly miles better than it’d been the first time they’d recorded. Seto couldn’t help but feel a tug of a smile at the corner of his lips, knowing that Katsuya hadn’t had all bad ideas.

“But,” Seto thought aloud, “it doesn’t fit the theme of wanderlust.”

Katsuya placed his glass down. “Nah, I thought the same. I almost feel like it fit the first theme better. But even then. He laced his fingers together and sat his elbows on his crossed knees. “More like, forgiveness, or equality or something.”

“Or meeting each other halfway.”

Katsuya clapped his hands together. “Or meeting each other halfway. Which is what we’ve somehow fucking managed with this collaboration. Excellent idea.” The alcohol hasn’t kicked in so much yet, but Katsuya’s handwriting has a tiny bump in it as he writes down lyric ideas to insinuate it’s coming. With his attitude tonight, he’s not surprised. He wants to be carried away.

“Another glass?” Seto asked carefully.

“Yeah, I don’t mind the idea of getting fucked up tonight. Tell me if I get to be too much though. It’s been a long time since I’ve been drinking around anyone who is mildly interesting.”

“Mildly interesting?” Seto smirked. “I guess we really have been creeping closer to that ‘halfway’ point.” He quoted in the air with his fingers. “If, you would consider me ‘mildly’ interesting and not just some asshole here to ruin your life.”

“Why bother trying to ruin my life? I don’t think I’m qualified to be on your ‘ruin your life’ radar. I’m managing that well enough on my own.”

“I…” Seto poured himself a glass too and clinked it together with Katsuya’s second. “Antagonising you has its perks. Mainly that it makes me feel like the teenager I allegedly am.”

“Is it your version of flirting with someone?” Katsuya winked as he brought the wine to his lips. He doesn’t hate this wine either. It doesn’t taste like cheap grapes and sadness like all the ones he used to grab from his work with staff discount (under someone else’s associate code, of course).

Seto mulled on it for a while. “Maybe so. If I’m ever going to learn how to do that, then it might as well be with someone who isn’t teasing me relentlessly about it.”

“Consider me flattered,” Katsuya grinned. “I’d flirt with me, too. I’m a pretty neat guy.”

“Don’t push your luck and do some work.” They stuck back into their scribing and muttering about music. Those flippant comments didn’t linger in the air for more than a few seconds before they found their rhythm again. And they made amazing artistic progress. Seto’s penmanship captures Katsuya’s attention for a while somewhere at the end of the third glass of wine, where Seto stood up and asked if he’d want another one.

“Water, then wine. Please.” With that, Seto swiftly exited the room, leaving Katsuya to look at their progress. And it was a lot of progress. Considering they’d all but scrapped their earlier ideas completely and started their vision again. There was a semblance of a fully formed composition here. Creative, fun.

At some point, Mokuba poked his head into the room when Seto and Katsuya were enjoying their fourth glasses of wine to say goodnight. He winked at Seto, who burned up. He blamed his Asian Flush. Katsuya could tell he was full of shit but it was endearingly cute.

“Why couldn’t you just meet me halfway?” Seto says quietly, tapping the rhythm on the floorboards.

“Huh?”

“Why couldn’t you just meet me halfway?” Seto’s penmanship is now sloppy, so he sets his utensils down and lays back on the palms of his hands. “That’s what this song feels like, right?”

Katsuya smiled to himself. “Who are you talking about though? Who couldn’t meet you halfway?”

“I don’t know. Everyone. Everything. Why couldn’t my fucking adoptive father even meet me ten percent of the way? Why did he-?”

Katsuya put his hand on Seto’s shoulder. “Hey now, this is time for fun drinks. Not sad drinks. We can have that conversation when we’re sober, yeah?” His voice gentle.

“Yeah.” Seto resigned himself and breathed out. Katsuya felt him minutely relax, shifting against his hand like he was melting into it.

“I have a dumb idea but it sounds better because I’m tipsy. How honest are you feeling?”

“Why?”

“Since we’re doing well at this getting to know each other thing, why don’t we do those questions they bring out at parties? Like truth and dare. But just the truth part.” This was definitely the alcohol talking. Katsuya’s words fell out of his mouth quicker than he could think.

“…” Seto opened his mouth, but then shrugged. “Alright.”

“Cool.” Katsuya grinned. “Wanna do a shot for every one we don’t want to answer?”

“Sounds like a challenge.” Seto stood up and swayed down the hall to his office, bringing back a set of shot glasses and top shelf vodka. In the meantime, Katsuya searched online for a list on Seto’s laptop to make it fair. That way they couldn’t hide questions from each other they didn’t want to answer themselves.

“Okay, question one. When was the last time you lied?”

“Lied?” Seto repeated, resting his chin between his thumb and index finger. “I don’t lie often. Probably something like when Isono asked if I wanted anything picked up and I said no but I was craving a salmon rice ball.”

“I think…” Katsuya starts, “it was telling my friends I didn’t want to meet up because I was busy when it was just because I was too poor to go out.”

“Hn.” Seto’s a little quiet for a moment. “When was the last time you cried?”

“Last night, easy,” Katsuya says without shame. “It probably surprises a lot of people to find out I’m a crier. You?”

“A…around Christmas. When Mokuba said something that hit me the wrong way about dying.” Seto muttered “of old age when I’m young from something preventable.”

“Wow.” Katsuya waits and takes a sip of his leftover wine. “Next. Um. What’s your biggest fear?”

“Abandonment,” Seto replied quickly. He poured himself a shot of vodka anyway and shot it back to silence him from rambling.

“Never feeling comfortable in my own skin,” Katsuya mused for a moment about Seto’s attitude. It made sense. He knew just a surface level about Seto’s life. But it felt like he had something deeper cut than Katsuya’s own trauma.

“Do you have any fetishes?”

They both drunk to that with telling looks on their faces.

“What’s a secret you’ve never told anyone?”

“That’s easy,” Katsuya grinned. “I’m bisexual. But I’ve never told anyone before you.”

Seto catches himself for a while. “I’m gay, Mokuba doesn’t explicitly know that,” Seto said barely above a whisper. Katsuya thought to himself for a moment before realising it was his turn to ask a question.

“Where’s the weirdest place you’ve had sex?”

“Haven’t had sex, you?”

“Got a handjob on the school roof once, but not sex.”

“Does that tie back into the fetish question?”

“Maybe I have a bit of an exhibitionist kink.”

Seto starts to laugh. Uncharacteristically. “God. Only to have the option of exploring anything like that. I’d get ruined.”

“There’s other ways to explore something like that. You’ve got tinted windows. Fuck someone against them. On your desk in your office. In the back of a limo with the partition rolled up.”

“You’ve thought too much about this,” Seto still laughed like a teenager. It made Katsuya feel dizzy. Seto probably hasn’t ever laughed like this in his life. And yet Katsuya reduced him to a teenage mess. Talking about the wildest topics.

“What do you most people think about you that isn’t true,” Seto read from the computer screen after composing himself.

“Ah,” Katsuya stopped to think for a moment, staring in Seto’s eyes but noticing them surrounded by little halos from the liquor. “Most people don’t think I consider my consequences, I guess. Like, I make dumb decisions, but I _try_ to think about the outcomes of the dumb decisions. Even when I spent time in the gang it was because there were more pros than cons back then. Like. Being fed. You?”

“I. Hmm. That I’m in it for the money. I’m not.”

“No?”

“I want to make things that children can enjoy. KaibaCorp was, after all, meant to be a company built on terrorism. Better to use that technology to bring people happiness. I have to be ruthless. Because if I’m not, people won’t take me seriously. I don’t enjoy being so young and in charge but if not me, then what will KaibaCorp become? A weapons manufacturer again? We don’t need that shit in our world. Right? Hate? There’s already enough hate.”

Katsuya thought about that statement for a while. “I understand. I think you’re doing well considering.” His drunk haze bright against his cheeks. “Seto, you’re actually amazing.” Not only did his first name slip out, but with a twisted breath following. Seto’s reaction to hearing his name wasn’t explicit but he shifted a little. “Oh, sorry, uh,” Katsuya covered his mouth.

“No, it’s fine.” Seto stood up, offering his hand to Katsuya to pull him up. “Let’s do something with our time before we get too drunk.”

Picking up the alcohol, Katsuya followed Seto across the hall to the unopened door. Katsuya’s intuition was right. It was Seto’s room. Understated. Wooden floors with a beautiful plush rug. Nothing about it felt extremely homely. But Seto pressed a few buttons on the wall opposite his bed and a TV uncovers. “Let’s play some games. I have almost anything you can think of.”

“This is fucking dope, dude!” Katsuya exclaims.

“What do you want to play?”

“Ah, I don’t know! Racing?”

“Loser takes a shot?”

“You’re on!”

Seto loads up Mario Kart. Katsuya grinned with nostalgia. He’d only recently played in an arcade but it wasn’t the same as curling up on a couch and yelling at a TV with his friends. Seto handed him a black controller. Sitting cross-legged on the edge of his bed, he set up the match and took them to the character select screen.

“Shy guy, always!” Katsuya exclaims, decking out his cart.

“Waluigi,” Seto counters.

“Of course you fucking would.” Katsuya bumped Seto playfully with his shoulder. “Your maniacal laugh would be on point.”

It’s hard to concentrate on the screen. Between the bright colours and the intoxication, Katsuya finds himself at 200cc driving into walls. Even more so during mirror courses, not being able to rely on muscle memory. Katsuya ends up another five shots in, and Seto three. But every win and loss, they cheer and moan and tease each other relentlessly and laugh until their eyes are red and tears well around the corners of their eyes. Katsuya’s giggling, lying on his back on Seto’s bed from another loss and the room is spinning. Feeling like another shot will slaughter him. Seto brings the shotglass to his lips and when he tries to push it away, Seto takes the shot for himself, then presses his lips up to Katsuyas and forces the liquid down his throat with spluttering. It doesn’t even occur to them this is a kiss. Just part of whatever they’re now doing between laughing and winning and losing and Katsuya’s laughing into Seto’s face with a smile stretched across his cheeks.

Katsuya doesn’t remember anything after that.

☆ ♭♫ ♮♫ ♯♫ ☆

Katsuya’s head thumps. It’s a little after 5am, and he’s woken up restless. And probably still a bit drunk. Clothes askew but still on his body. Sticky alcohol littered around his mouth and on his hands. The dull glare of the standby light on the TV they’d been playing a few hours ago.

Seto’s asleep a little further up on the bed, but also on top of the covers. He’s at least had the coordination to take off his pants and sleep in an undershirt and underwear. That’s too much for Katsuya to comprehend. He needs water. And to take a piss. They hadn’t eaten through their night of drinking, and Katsuya had only eaten lightly before coming over. It was going to be a painful morning.

He stumbled down the hall, running fingers along walls to feign balance. He found the closest bathroom and drunk water with his hands after relieving himself. Sitting on the toilet for a while, letting the room spin. Still drunk. But on the verge of a brutal hangover.

What a birthday celebration, he thought to himself. But even through the impending pain it was welcomed.

He stumbled his way back to the bed, choosing to lie a little more comfortably on it. Before realising with a shock that it was a Friday. Still a school day. But the state of Katsuya meant he wouldn’t be wise to go in. At least for the morning. Maybe in the afternoon if he got himself sorted.

He wondered how Seto was feeling. Seto maybe hadn’t drunk as much but was certainly _as_ drunk. Brief flashes of Seto leaning hard into Katsuya’s shoulders while drifting on Mario Kart popped up in his mind. He felt the world spin a little faster.

Not long after he settled those thoughts, an alarm started beeping. It took a moment, but Seto finally stretched over and slapped it and groaned.

“Ugh, really?” Katsuya moaned, holding his hands over his eyes, and pressing at his temples to relieve the tension.

“Ugh, really,” Seto sat up, blinking at his uncharged phone. Then he fell back into the bed and sighed. “I’m not going to school.”

“Neither.”

“Headache?”

“Oh, it’s comin’,” Katsuya all but whispered. Seto rubbed his eyes and mustered all his strength to get up and walk to a door inside his room, opening it to a bathroom. Without turning on the lights, he rummaged around a drawer and came back with two glasses of water and a handful of pills.

“Ibuprofen, it’s strong. Go back to sleep.” Katsuya groggily picked the glass out of Seto’s delicate fingers and popped two pills, chasing it with water. Seto slung himself back onto the bed and fell asleep again. Katsuya followed him back into dreamland for a while, not thinking twice to move somewhere that wasn’t the other teen’s bed.

The next time an alarm went off, it was eight o’clock. Seto also hadn’t woken between the first and second alarm again. He grumbled. But he got up this time after a few moments of concentrated willpower.

“Breakfast?” he asked carefully.

“God yes.”

“Anything in particular?”

“Whatever will stop this hangover from haunting me.”

“Coffee?”

“ _God_ yes.”

Seto picks up his phone and dials a number. He mutters something and sits back on the edge of his bed. “We’ll go downstairs later. Isono is going to pick something up. Something greasy and disgusting.”

“Perfect.”

“Now, if you don’t mind. I’m going to have a shower.” Seto saunters into the ensuite again, closing the door behind him with a definitive lock. Katsuya drifts off into a shallow sleep while he’s in there. He tried not to think too much. Just let the dreams twist around each other. Maybe ten minutes later, Seto emerges wearing a pair of pyjama pants loosely tied around his waist. He’s shirtless. Katsuya has seen him shirtless before but he’s never really looked closely until now.

And he’s too hungover to appreciate it. Damn it.

“Do you mind if I also shower?”

“Go right ahead,” Seto gestures towards his own bathroom. “Towels under the sink. Once you’re done, toss it down the laundry shoot. Uh. Clothes. Your shirt is a mess. I probably have something that fits.” Seto searched through his drawers, eventually pulling out a shirt that was on the smaller side of okay around Katsuya’s shoulders, but would be oversized on Seto. “Do you need underwear?”

“N-no.” Katsuya shakes his head. “I’ll have a shower when I get home later too though.”

“Mmm.” Seto is distracted as Katsuya goes for his shower. He’s too hungover to even let curiosity get the better of him. Given Seto Kaiba’s personal bathroom? At any other opportunity before now he probably would snoop. Probably would laugh to himself at a box of unopened condoms under the sink. But something changed last night. He wasn’t sure if him and Seto could call each other friends now. But it was certainly better than enemies. Seto was uncharacteristically nice this morning too.

Breakfast was exactly what Katsuya had hoped. Unaware that his stomach was so empty until the breakfast from a café down the street had been plated up. Coffee in KaibaCorp keep cups with cute hand-drawn style Blue-Eyes-White-Dragons. Bacon, Egg, Avocado bagels too.

“Wow, this is so good!” Katsuya exclaims, biting into the still-warm bagel. Egg seeped down his fingers. “Rare to find a bagel shop.”

“Quite the find,” Seto agreed, drinking his coffee otherwise in silence. Spending time looking at his phone until he was finished reading emails.

The coffee seemed to hit the spot too. Between the ibuprofen and caffeine seeping into his bloodstream, Katsuya’s headache was marching its way out quickly. Katsuya relished the minutes that followed. Strangely calm and domestic. A feeling he’d rarely had. He thought for a few moments it was something he could get more used to.

“What are you doing today, then?” Katsuya asked.

“I suppose I’ll work from home for a while. If I need to go into the office, it’ll be this evening. We’ll take a rest from the composition today. I don’t know if my head could handle your noise.”

“Mmm,” Katsuya agreed. “Well. I don’t know what I’m doing. If I go home before my father leaves, he’ll flip that I’m not at school. Sooooo. Maybe I’ll head to the Game Shop and hang out with Gramps.”

“I see.” Seto’s eyelashes fluttered as he took the last hit of his coffee. Katsuya wasn’t so sure why he was fascinated with this tiny detail. Seto looked peaceful. Like he didn’t have the world on his shoulders.

“Okay, well, I’ll get out of your hair. Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” Seto confirmed softly. “You alright to get home?”

“Yeah, I’m good. I’ll go get my stuff and let myself out.” Katsuya threw a peace sign over his shoulder, sauntering upstairs to gather his things.

☆ ♭♫ ♮♫ ♯♫ ☆

Katsuya’s mind was on a loop. It was a cold evening on the walk to Seto’s house. Choosing to forgo his bike, he needed time to think. Cars careened by knocking him from his thoughts every once in a while.

Thursday and Friday were huge days when he thought about it with his relationship building with Seto. Wrapped up in calling him by his first name was a confession he was gay, a mild confession that he’d been flirting with him on purpose, even if it were an experiment of sorts. And even a point when they were drunk where their lips touched.

Not to mention the fight they’d had not two months ago where Kaiba had exploded at him.

There were a few possible outcomes to this scenario, Katsuya thought to himself. He scuffed shoes along the ground as he took his time walking. But the two his mind settled on were either 1) Seto really was just getting something out of his system. A bit of human connection. Learning how to flirt. Or 2) Seto really did sorta maybe _like_ him?

Katsuya kicked a rock, watching it skip down the road while his brain digested that thought.

Were either of these inherently bad? Katsuya didn’t think so. It absolutely bet whatever arrangement they had before where they’d fight. Though the thrill of it was exhilarating. The chase. The almost homoerotic struggling on the ground. But this was nice. Seto didn’t open up to just anyone. Katsuya was certainly the exception, not the rule.

But he couldn’t really ask about it either. Just in case Seto flew off the handle again. Kind of like a cat that hadn’t learned how to trust humans but was starving. Would sacrifice a few morals for a spoonful of jellymeat from your hand.

Would Katsuya even be interested was the next question. The answer was almost as difficult. A yes, but. He wasn’t exactly looking to mess around with someone, but they had organic chemistry. But the implications of imagining a future with Seto, his workaholism, his temperament. Katsuya wasn’t sure if he had the energy for all of that. It might be different. It seemed different being in his home and circle.

Facts were that they were too similar in personality after breaking through the barrier. That Seto had more trauma than Katsuya. Assumptions were that even if Seto was interested, and who was to say he was, would he really put that into the world? Homophobia was still homophobia. Katsuya knew it was problematic to think, but he could straight-pass when he needed to. He hadn’t been anywhere near as vocal about his crushes on other males. After all, they were still changing in locker rooms with other teenagers. Who wants to bring that upon themselves? He knew the way Hirutani would get swarms of people to beat the gay out of anyone who looked twice like some kind of Extra Fucked Up conversion therapy. So he was out of the gangs. The undercurrent still existed in society.

That brought an unresolved Katsuya to the all too familiar steps of the Kaiba Palace.

“Evening!” Mokuba chirped as he opened the door. “Back here to antagonise my brother?”

“He does that by himself just fine,” Katsuya grinned. Mokuba threw him a cheeky grin back. Katsuya ran up the stairs and swung the music room door open. Seto wasn’t there, but Katsuya dragged everything out and started transcribing messy notes into a notebook. The piece was starting to beautifully take shape. And today, with a boatload more inspiration, it was set to blossom into something more akin to their final composition.

“Hey,” Seto slid into the room quietly.

“Hey, moneybags!” Katsuya beamed. He didn’t know why he felt so magnetised towards Seto normally, but this was twice as strong now. He wanted to sling his arm around him like he did the rest of his friends. Something magic was happening in these four walls.

If he thought about it, maybe Konomi-Sensei needed a thank you card. To finally have the opportunity to get closer to him. The abrupt cactus that was Seto Kaiba was more like an aloe plant. Spiky and green, but if you got intimate, healing.

Seto’s set up the camera, and they’ve started playing with electronic beats. Overlaying recorded instruments. A rise and drop of bass. This was definitely solid alpha material.

“This is where I’d put the lyrics,” Katsuya said, playing with the tempo. Removing the underlaid bass. It sounded featherlight. “Something feminine and raspy would be beautiful.”

“You said Emi can do that for you?”

“Yeah, she’s got a good vocal range. She’ll do anything. I’ve checked with her.”

Seto hummed to himself.

☆ ♭♫ ♮♫ ♯♫ ☆

“Why couldn’t you just meet me halfway?” Emi looked up at Katsuya, who was pacing back and forth around the music room, cracking knuckles as she listened to a sample of their music where the lyrics would place.

“Is that lame?”

She tapped her chin for a moment. “No, I think it’s…” her voice drifted off but her expression was soft. “What happened?” she finally asked.

“I…couldn’t really tell that story justice.”

Emi smiled wide, pearly-white teeth shining. “Maybe we’ll hear it in what you present.”

Katsuya fell to the floor, stretching his arms out behind him to support his weight. Almost like her approval was everything he needed to take the next step. Next step of what though? He couldn’t put a finger on that feeling at all. She played with her hair as she replayed the twenty-second snippet again. “Okay, I’ve got it. We’ll do a few takes?”

“That’d be amazing.” Logging onto the music room school computer, Katsuya then dragged a microphone over to plug it in. Emi put headphones gently over her ears as not to mess up her hair. Overlaying the music through the headphones, Emi produced a few takes of the breathy, raspy tones that Katsuya pulled out of her. Some of them desperate, some of them sweet. Katsuya motioned for her to pull the headphones off her head after the twelfth take, with two thumbs up. “That’s it, that’s it Emi. You’re a gem.”

“I better be your maid of honour at the wedding,” she shot back, grinning toothily again. “I’ll play the music too.”

Katsuya couldn’t stop laughing at that comment. Even on the walk to Kaiba’s house. Even downloading the attachment to the laptop and adding it where it needed to go. Even listening to the completed alpha version. Seto must have thought he was going crazy. Laughing so hard his head was spinning well into sleep.

☆ ♭♫ ♮♫ ♯♫ ☆

February fourteenth.

Katsuya never looked forward to Valentine’s Day. Not because of the romanticism, if he were honest to himself, he’d call himself a big sap. But rather, the impending doom that was White Day. Reciprocal chocolates. If he were lucky, he’d only end up with one or two, and his budget could handle that.

If he ended up with….Katsuya counted the pile that had accumulated on Seto Kaiba’s homeroom desk before first period…seventy-one and counting. Wow, no. That’d be a financial hellhole. He might as well declare bankruptcy.

Though Seto Kaiba had never reciprocated. So to say he was surprised when Seto merely sighed at the pile and packed them all aside, bundling the cards together, was an understatement. Katsuya nearly fell of his chair.

The most romantic day of the year, yet Katsuya spent it dateless. Instead in Seto Kaiba’s music room. Their composition was being fine-tuned day-by-day. Their vlogs had greatly slowed in production, more providing short snippets on their process via computer recording and audio. There were moments, on the replay that Katsuya treasured. He could pinpoint, if he were looking at it with an outside perspective, when everything changed with their respective body language. Just subtle things like sitting beside each other instead of a metre apart to work. Around when the apology had happened.

“Feeling kinder this year?” Katsuya asked.

“What’s that meant to mean?”

“Last year, and the year before? All those letters? In the bin?”

Seto laughed. A genuine laugh. Not one of those maniacal ones. “The chocolates with their packaging intact can go to the staffroom at work. The homemade ones I always throw away due to health and safety. Can’t have someone poisoning me that easily.”

“Oh yes, the poison for Kaiba. The poison chosen especially to kill Kaiba. Kaiba’s poison.”

“A fan of the Emperor’s New Groove?” Seto cocked his eyebrows.

“Great movie. Very quotable.” Katsuya passed over the notebook Seto was motioning towards. “Did you read the cards you got?”

“No.”

“Keep them?”

“I haven’t exactly thrown them out but I wasn’t planning on it.”

Katsuya smiled slyly. “Well, can we take a break and find some of the cringiest ones in the pile?”

Seto furrowed his eyes. But he eventually stood up, traipsing back to his office to rummage through his schoolbag. Dropping the pile on the ground. A lot of them were small impersonal _To Seto: Happy Valentine’s Day! From (indescript person here)_ on small business-card sized message cards.

The first bulky card Katsuya opened sung something cheesy at him.

“Gaudy,” Seto screwed up his nose.

The next card was neatly written in exact lines. The message was relatively safe.

“Generic.” Seto and Katsuya both laughed softly.

“Seto Kaiba, I’ve had my eyes on you since first grade. You’re one of a kind!”

Seto held his head in his hands. “Jesus Christ.”

“Ooh, this one has a marriage proposal.”

“Ugh.”

Slyly, Katsuya opens a jet-black envelope, cackling as he reads the inners. “This entitles the bearer to store credit on bad-dragon.com. What’s that, Seto?”

“God fucking damnit I do not want to know!” Seto’s face went bright red as Katsuya searched hurriedly on his phone, inadvertently dropping it on the ground in shock in front of them. Mouth agape.

“Is that…” Seto gawped at the very prominent dragon-themed dildos.

They looked at each other straight in the eyes. “Otogi.” But there was a noticeable blush climbing up both of their necks.

The rest of the cards were neutral, cheesy. Poems that wouldn’t be lost on most boys. Some quotes of novelists Seto had been caught reading over the years at his desk. Nothing exquisite, but certainly enough to laugh at and feel a little more alright with commercialised love.

“Oh, one more card!” Katsuya opened a deep blue envelope and read it aloud.

“Happy Valentine’s Day. You’re a stubborn asshole, impatient to a fault. But if I have to spend it with anyone I’m glad it’s you.”

“Thanks, Katsuya.” Seto laughed brightly. “I think I’ll keep that one. I don’t need any others.”

“Not even the bad-dragon one?”

“Especially not the bad-dragon one.”

“Are you suuuuure?” Seto flipped him the bird while rolling his eyes.

He shuffled out of the room for a while, taking the handfuls of cards with him. Katsuya lingered for a moment on the fallen moment that was Seto using his first name, and him using Seto’s.

Katsuya didn’t realise they’d gotten that close. But it’d come naturally and come reciprocated. Not captured on video. Just in their memories.

When Seto returned almost ten minutes later, he brought a selection of chocolates from a chocolatier down the street from KaibaCorp, and two spiced hot chocolates. He had a shy smile on his face.

“What’s all this for?” Katsuya raised an eyebrow.

Seto didn’t say anything, just a dismissive shrug. But his blue eyes sparkled with happiness. It was the most relaxed Katsuya had ever seen him. He just settled in and brought his own hot chocolate to his lips and carefully unwrapped the package, offering one towards Katsuya first. After a moment, he broke the silence. “I’m…starting to feel like I’m allowed to enjoy some things again.” The voice was barely above a murmur and there was a crimson blush climbing from Seto’s neck under his button-down shirt collar. “Mokuba especially likes them. So they are always in the staffroom. I’m particular to the raspberry ones. I don’t like sweets much but…” Katsuya realises at this point Seto’s rambling.

He thinks it’s kinda cute. And he grabs one, biting into the smooth caramel.

“You’re right! This is really nice. Thank you!” Katsuya’s smile reaches his eyes too and he notices Seto relax a little.

“Think of it as, ah, an apology that you’re spending your Valentine’s Day with me.”

Katsuya waved his hand between taking a sip of the rich hot chocolate. “Now, now! I don’t think there’s anywhere else I want to be this particular Valentine’s Day.”

“Stuck with a stubborn asshole?” Seto quoted his card.

“Stuck with a stubborn asshole. I kinda like this stubborn asshole. I’m glad he’s letting me like him.”

Seto’s eyes shifted minutely, like he’d lost focus.

“Anyway!” Katsuya grins, grabbing another chocolate. “We are SO CLOSE to having this done! Does it feel right to you?”

“Yeah,” Seto said, not sure which scenario he was answering for. “It’s starting to feel right.”

☆ ♭♫ ♮♫ ♯♫ ☆

“Hey partner!” Katsuya put his palms down on Seto’s desk to support his weight, snapping Seto out of his book. “How are you?”

Seto’s eyes bugged out. “Uh. Fine. Why?”

“Free at lunch? I’ve been thinking a little! About our project of course. I’ve been thinking about that chime we’ve been playing with and I-” Katsuya blabbers on enthusiastically at Seto’s desk with brown eyes glittered in enthusiasm. Seto can’t help but smile despite being in public.

Emi glances over at them above her own book and smiles to herself.

“…Yes. I’m free,” Seto finally interrupts the dialogue. “But does it have to be so urgent?”

“A creative streak waits for nobody!” Katsuya clutched his chest dramatically. “Oh, great Seto Kaiba, won’t you humour me?”

Rolling his eyes, he nodded and returned to his book, covering his face high enough his classmates can’t catch the smile that had crept into the corners of his mouth.

Bang on the bell chiming at 12:35pm, Katsuya’s standing outside Seto’s classroom door. Manuscript in hand and a bounce in his step, he dragged Seto down to an unused classroom down the hall that he’d been sneaking into for years for a solid nap when he felt like skipping out on science. He threw open the outside doors and sat on this stolen section of balcony Katsuya was sure nobody else knew about. An old azuki bean tin serving as a casual ashtray for days when things were just a little too much.

But recently life had felt like it was on the up. Through the worst of winter, the sun was shining stronger. Early plum blossoms littered the view on the horizon.

“So, this creative genius?” Seto sat down after smoothing out his school slacks. He cracks open a small bento, and Katsuya shoves a sandwich down his throat in record time.

“Yes! Sorry. It came to me procrastinating in Math class.” Katsuya pulled out his cellphone, passing a wired earbud to Seto’s ear. “This part here, I was thinking this background melody doesn’t quite match…” Katsuya indicated with his fingers when the timing hit. “I hate it if I’m honest. So I played with a few things in music class. But I knew you were going to be out during third period with that video call, when I was playing with it in music class. So. I came up with this to replace it. What do you think?” Katsuya chose another melody that he’d recorded on an audio editing software in the music room. “It’s not perfect, but I’ve chucked it in place of, and it sounds a bit better to me. That one-two-three-three beat is better here. Then the pause. Makes it feel like it’s switching into a redemption arc.”

Seto listened to it three times, before nodding. “Thank you.”

“You like it?”

“We’ll tidy it up at home. But I like this.”

Katsuya flung his arms around Seto, feeling victorious that he’d had some creative input by himself that was warmly appreciated. Cheeks pressing together as his arms pulled at Seto’s rigid shoulders, twisting at their waists. Seto didn’t bother pulling back, letting it ride its course.

It felt kind of nice to be affectionate.

Katsuya pulled off suddenly. “Oh god, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable-”

“It’s fine,” Seto interrupted.

“Oh! Phew!” Katsuya ran his fingers through his hair nervously, twisting at longer strands in the peaks of his wilderness. He felt wildly reduced to a teenager. Which is lucky because he _was_ a teenager. He shrugged the feeling off after dwelling for a second too long.

☆ ♭♫ ♮♫ ♯♫ ☆

Tickling the beginning of March, with just two weeks to spare, they grin at each other as they save their final project. It’s the first time Katsuya’s seen Seto smile both as wide as his eyes, and with his eyes too.

“Ahh!” Katsuya grins. “I can’t believe it’s done. Done-done!”

“About time!” Seto exclaims, exporting it to a high-quality complete audio track, and uploading it to a secure web server to back up their progress.

They sit on the floor as they connect their audio to overhead speakers, listening to it in its entirety. It really does tell a more solid story than their first concept. Seto’s so glad they reworked. Even with the thousands of other things on his plate, there’s nothing else he would have rather channelled time into. It feels creative. Like it’s tested everything about them – boy has it ever, Katsuya thinks. There’s unorthodox instruments. There’s swells in the music and pin-drop silences. There’s Emi’s breathy voice splitting the narrative in two. The first half feels like loss. Incredible loss. Drowning. Suffocation. Katsuya feels it wrapping around his own core hearing it.

Katsuya realises this was the whole point all along. Something so personal. Others might be able to hear the words and piece it together. But nobody’s lived their timelines. Understanding how much he’s lost. How much Seto’s lost. The insurmountable pain they’ve had to carry as just teenagers. Not yet even of legal age of majority in Japan.

Katsuya understands why Seto is the way he is now.

He glances just briefly over at Seto, who is sitting cross-legged with his fingers interlaced, resting his chin on his hands. Eyes closed. Just listening. Over the months they’ve been sitting closer and closer. If Katsuya moves his knees he’s bundled in his arms, they’ll knock against Seto’s.

The second half sounds like redemption. Moving on from loss. Being let out of a cage. Finding your own future. Slowly, carefully, almost distrustfully so. He wonders if it’s metaphorical for Seto. Finding himself out of the clutches of his stepfather. Of the Big Five who tried to get him kicked out of his own company. The only person Seto’s ever connected with other than Mokuba seems to be him.

Katsuya feels winded as the piece finishes, and tears are falling down his face. He didn’t even realise. Collecting on the edges of his eyelashes and rolling in streams. He doesn’t want to look over. He knows Seto’s feeling the relief of this mammoth project that subliminally took over every waking thought for the last two months is finally over. Encompassed in some kind of healing.

The silence is deafening. But they’re having a _moment_.

Seto is finally the one to break the silence, some minutes later.

“Does he hit you?”

Katsuya struggles to choke out a breath. He can’t answer that because that makes it _real_. The silence answers instead.

“Thought so.” Seto gently rest his head on Katsuya’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

Katsuya wonders how he noticed. He’s not even mentioned it once. Done well at wearing long-sleeved clothes and avoiding being home in general in the last few months. This project was reprieve. The less he was home the better…

“It’s not your place to apologise, Seto.” Katsuya rests his own head, tangling their brown and blond hair together into caramel highlights. “But for what it’s worth, I’m sorry too.”

“Shizuka?” Seto asks. Katsuya’s almost surprised he knows the name of his sister.

“No. Mokuba?”

“No. We did our jobs to protect them.” Seto pulls his head away and buries his face in his hands, but their shoulders stay fused together. Katsuya can’t pull away, he just simply puts his left arm around Seto and pulls him in.

And they stay like that past nightfall. Past the tingle in their legs falling numb. Past the tears refusing to fall anymore.

☆ ♭♫ ♮♫ ♯♫ ☆

Sitting in the computer room that Katsuya had been working on the vlog, they watch every edited clip from the beginning of their journey in silence. Well documented were the hiccups. The first song that they scrapped. The physical distance between them early on. The reference to their fight. Katsuya shifts uncomfortably as he understands better now why they were so angry at each other.

At some point, even he was angry at Seto Kaiba for things Seto couldn’t control. He wasn’t aware it was so obvious until he was looking at it in third-person. His shoulders used to turn away from Seto when he disagreed with something he said. Classic shutting-down body language. He wonders if it was always like this. How much he contributed to Seto’s pushback against him in the first place.

“Well,” Seto says to break the silence as the last video wraps with them high-fiving and exporting the file before turning off the camera, “I’m glad it’s over in a way.”

“So am I,” Katsuya says. “Though I am going to miss the excuse to come over here.”

The room is silent again. It feels a little awkward. Katsuya wonders if he could have chosen a better turn of phrase because he’s so cautious of saying the wrong thing and having Seto crawl back into his shell. Their progress was immense but not infallible.

“I’m going to miss the break from work that being involved with a personal project allowed.” Seto’s reply was almost too diplomatic. “I have also finished our written report. All that’s left are your final impressions. If you want to send them to me I’ll print that and submit it tomorrow.”

“Yeah, all good. I’ve got it typed on the computer at school.”

They look into each other’s eyes, almost like they’re waiting for the other to say something profound. A lump forms in Katsuya’s throat that he forces down and all of a sudden he has butterflies in his stomach instead.

“Listen Seto,” Katsuya’s aware that he’s still calling him by his first name to his face but calling him Kaiba after all of _that_ just doesn’t feel right. “I appreciate how much you let me in. Like. I know it was some hard shit we talked about. And obviously what happens here doesn’t ever have to leave this place. I hope you trust me.”

“I oddly do,” Seto breaks eye contact to look at his hands, picking at his cuticles.

“And I know you’re going to be busy. And I know I will be too. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to see you anymore. I’ve…I’ve really liked being able to figure out some shit with you. You’re a really good friend when you give someone the chance.”

“Friend…” Seto murmurs.

“Friend or…whatever you want to call me. I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable. I know you’re on your own journey right now and that’s all good by me. Just don’t shut me out, alright?”

Seto looks back up and Katsuya’s eyes are staring intently into his soul. He feels so exposed. So he closes his eyes.

Next thing he knows they’re kissing.

He’s not sure who leaned in, or how far.

“Seto, are you sure?” Katsuya says, pulling back. “I want you to be sure.”

“Do you want this?” Seto whispers.

“Yeah I do, but if this is happening I want to know you mean it too. I’m not playing games with you.”

Katsuya doesn’t remember any more conversation. Just that Seto’s lips are so soft. And magnetic. And their hands are in each other’s hair and they’re making barely any noise but what is coming out of their mouths is softer than silk. Seto’s heart feels like it’s going to jump out of his chest.

Katsuya feels ecstatic. Especially when he pulls away gently and opens his eyes and he sees Seto peel back another layer of his soul.

And especially when they kiss again, and he can feel Seto smiling.

“I don’t know how to do the rest of it,” Seto exclaims as they pull away. He looks embarrassed.

“I don’t expect you to,” Katsuya says gently. “We’ll figure out our pace. No pressure. No expectations. We don’t have to go from zero to one hundred. Just whatever we’re both comfortable with.”

☆ ♭♫ ♮♫ ♯♫ ☆

“I thought you were finished with your project,” Mokuba greets as he opens the door to the mansion.

“Hey,” Katsuya greets back. “We have our presentation tomorrow so I’m over talking about how we’re going to do that.”

“Talking,” Mokuba giggles. Katsuya squints his eyes, unsure if Mokuba knows anything or if he’s just picked up on how much the pair have changed around each other.

“Talking,” Seto repeats with a stern tone, following Mokuba out of the kitchen with two cups of tea. “Evening. My office.”

Katsuya follows Seto up the stairs, feeling the wrath of Mokuba pressing against his back. But as they settle into their working setup, nothing slightly romantic comes over him. Seto feels focussed, as they draw up a plan and write their points for the presentation tomorrow.

In relief, Konomi-Sensei has told the class they need not to present their reports, video or written, but talk about their creative process in a summary, and present their piece. Katsuya and Seto were the only one to vlog the process and she made a comment about it being a creative way to ‘capture things that words cannot say.’ He wondered how much of that was laced in innuendo, because she certainly seemed to note the change in their relationship through the process. “After all,” she said to Katsuya as he was leaving class, “this is why I purposefully chose the pairings. Not a single pair that I’ve ever teamed up like this have ever come out worse. Some the same, but some better. Music is therapy.”

Through their first run through of their ‘presentation,’ Seto and Katsuya found it awkward to find their timing to segue and every time they made explicit eye contact they found each other blushing.

“Good thing we’re practising,” Katsuya laughed at the end of their second run through. “If we tried to do this impromptu it would have been a clusterfuck.”

To that, Seto boldly pushed Katsuya against a wall and kissed him heavily.

“Seto,” Katsuya broke away from the kiss. “This is hardly practising.”

“Oh, but it is. Just not for the project at hand.” Katsuya made a note that Seto was pretty suave when he wanted his way, playfulness in his voice.

“Fine, a five-minute break,” Katsuya shrugged. “It’s not like I don’t _want_ to practise this anyway.”

Seto pressed back in, hands in Katsuya’s hair, Katsuya’s arms wrapped around his waist pulling him in. Kissing for eternities. Kissing like their life depended on each other. Seto felt like his world could break in an instant if Katsuya pushed him away but he didn’t. Just kept receiving. Smiling underneath Seto’s mouth. When they broke away, Katsuya rested his forehead on Seto’s, pressing their noses gently together before nuzzling into his neck.

“God, you make me so happy.” Katsuya breathed. “Who would have thought?”

Seto pressed in once more for a long kiss before composing himself and ordering them to start from the top like nothing had happened.

Seto Kaiba is a professional, after all.

☆ ♭♫ ♮♫ ♯♫ ☆

Emi and Katsuya are sitting outside, backs against the wall of the gymnasium. Their music presentations are fifth period, but for now they’re eating lunch together. Katsuya’s friend group understands that the music thing is something they don’t understand, but Katsuya has to be honest that he hasn’t been completely open with them of late.

Obviously this latest relationship development is something he wants to shout from the rooftops. But he doesn’t want to speak attention to it. Seto and him don’t interact at school outside of music class. The less anybody knows, the better. Especially while it’s so raw. It feels like someone could snatch it all away. And while Katsuya knows in the back of his mind that he could recover from heartbreak, he’s not sure Seto could. That’s why they’ve been taking it so slow. Even their meetings in person feel like there’s an air of hesitation.

Anzu knows something is up. But she’s a good enough friend to just be open to talk about things on everyone else’s terms. Besides, they’re all worked up about their centre tests. And while Katsuya is yet to begin studying for his big exams, he has managed to finish his music portfolio for the interview he’s landed with Domino University’s Music Department in the coming weeks.

Emi’s got news that she’s moving to Tokyo to attend Tokyo College of Music. Katsuya couldn’t be happier for her.

“It feels like you’ve got news too,” she says as she sips from her water bottle.

“Not particularly,” Katsuya shrugs. “I’m just going through the paces.”

Emi places her drink bottle down and claps her hands together. “Listen. You don’t have to hide anything from me. And you know I’ve got more intuition than most. You don’t have to acknowledge that I know. I’m just happy for you both.”

“You…what?” Katsuya said stunned. Like he’d had a brick thrown at his face.

Emi shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s your energies. Like, normally musical partners have a connection, but I’ve known since the first time I met you both that you’d figure it out.”

“I didn’t even know I-” Katsuya trailed off.

“Didn’t need to. Just accept whatever is happening feels nice right now. You radiate sunshine.”

Katsuya carried that smile into the classroom.

“Now class,” Konomi Sensei flicks her hands towards the stage she’s set up at the front of class. “I am thrilled to hear your compositions. Though I have briefly reviewed your rather creative processes, these weren’t up for assessment. Just an important tool for you to reflect on your journeys.”

Emi and her partner Asuka played a heavy-rock, _2Cellos_ inspired piece. They talked about the rules of music, and how they liked to bend the rules of society with music. “Let it be known,” Emi says with a mischievous wink, “that my inspiration isn’t just musical. It’s a big ‘fuck you’ to society in general. Boxing us into genders, gender roles, sexualities, races, cultures. Music is a huge part of culture and can be a huge part of healing and change.”

Konomi Sensei applauded with delight. “Love that message!”

The other members of the group presented in their pairs. There was an incredible mix of instruments and collabs that shouldn’t have worked but did. A flautist and a pianist doing justice to hip hop. A guitarist pair doing their interpretation of classical.

And finally, it was Katsuya’s turn. Giving Seto the nod, they set up the computer with their audio file, and began to speak.

“Last Year, Jounouchi-San and myself embarked on a journey to create music out of an environment that was, to be blunt, toxic at best.”

“Kaiba-San and myself couldn’t see eye-to-eye on anything. The first while passed by in a bickering blur. You knew that version of ourselves right from Year One at this school. Any chance to argue. Any chance to goad the other.”

“But then, we figured out how to work together. And I suspect that was the whole intention with our pairing. We finished our first piece relatively quickly after that. But it felt bland. And this is the piece.” Seto hit play and the class listened to it patiently.

“Passable at best. But it lacked soul,” Katsuya analysed. “Though quite fond of the idea that we were going to be out of each other’s hair, neither of us felt like this was us. So, we convened this time with clearer heads and found something that we both needed to say.”

“So this is called Meet Me Halfway. And we couldn’t have made it without Tokugawa-San’s vocals. Or Jounouchi’s ability to think on his feet. Every sound was in house produced.”

The class’ silence drowned out by their finished piece. And though Katsuya and Seto were standing at opposite ends of the stage, avoiding each other’s eye contact, both felt at peace. It sounded the most produced out of all of the pieces they’d heard. Which made sense considering Seto’s collection of instruments and technology.

“I think I learned that I can strive to be better, and stop settling,” Katsuya said as the song faded and after the class applause died. “And I learned that even your enemies or rivals have something to teach you.”

“That was succinctly put,” Seto nodded in agreement. “A lesson that I can take with me as a businessman.”

With that, the pair make eye contact, smile, and bow towards each other.

No matter what happens from here, everything will be alright. Thanks to a music project.

Konomi Sensei just smiles to herself.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you found some magic in the year that was 2020. And if nothing else, I hope this piece brought a smile to your face.
> 
> You have all been amazing.
> 
> A huge thank you to the Violetshipping Discord Server. You're my everything.


End file.
